Daughter of the Reef (13 page)

A moment later the first of the Arioi came ashore, and the crowd made way for them. Tepua watched the underchief warmly greet the man who stood at the fore of the troop, embracing him and pressing his nose to each cheek. Then a woman leader stepped forward and was greeted as well. These head Arioi, unlike the others, had solid black tattooing covering them from ankle to thigh. They wore cloths painted scarlet and yellow, necklaces of pearl shell, and feather headdresses as tall as the chief's.
 

The remaining Arioi were decorated in a variety of styles, some with cowrie shells and feathers, others with necklaces and fringed gorgets. They strode forward, smiling and laughing, toward places that had been set for them on the ground, men and women in separate sections. Tepua smelled delicious steamy odors as servers hurried from the ovens to feed the guests.
 

Tepua and Hoihoi found places of their own, far from the honored guests, and they had to wait a long time to be served. When the food finally came, Tepua thought it the best she had ever eaten—roasted fowls, savory with sea salt, and yams, plantains, reef fish, steamed leaves of taro. At home there had been feasts, of course, but none with this variety.

While she ate, Tepua glanced occasionally across at the gathering of men. Rimapoa was seated at the edge of the crowd. When he saw her, he grinned and flourished a leg of fowl. Tepua returned his greeting, but she felt uneasy. Later, when the dancing started, she knew he would come looking for her. There would be no distracting him then. . . .
 

At last she realized that she had finished all the food before her. She saw other women around her moving into the shade beneath the palms to escape the fiercest heat of the day. Some had brought sleeping mats. Others, like Hoihoi, dug themselves hollows in the sandy soil. Tepua made herself a resting place and curled up on her side.
 

The entertainment was still to come. She was curious to see why these Arioi merited the great welcome that the headman's people had provided. But now, as she heard the snores and the buzzing of flies, her eyelids fell shut.
 

 

Tepua awoke to drumming. It grew louder and faster, picking up a two-toned beat.
Boom, ba-boomba, boom ba-boomba
, almost the same as the drumbeats of her homeland. When she stood up, her feet began moving to the rhythm. It got into her, making her skin tingle.
 

As she followed Hoihoi in the slanting sunlight of late afternoon, she saw the Arioi gathering about the level area in the center of the assembly ground. Underlings were laying down mats. “For the performance,” Hoihoi explained. The musicians had already taken seats at the rear of this simple stage.
 

So many people in one place! Tepua feared she would be lost in the midst of the crowd around the mats, but she felt Hoihoi's hand close about her wrist and draw her through. Then the noise quieted and people knelt or sat on the ground.
 

The chief Arioi stood and raised his hands to still the drums and the crowd. “Let us remember,” he said in a booming voice, “why it is that we feast and laugh and dance here today. Let us recall the god who inspires us. Let us do honor to Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear.”
 

For a moment the crowd fell into a respectful silence for the god. Then, at the chief Arioi's signal, the drums and flutes started once more, joined by a chorus of male singers. They began chanting a history of Oro, starting with the story of his search for a wife, finally telling how he inspired the start of the Arioi society.
 

To Tepua, much of this was new. Oro was known in her islands, but her people held no rites in his honor. He was a god of many aspects, feared as the patron of war, yet admired as the spirit of peace when enemies sat down together. From the words of the chant, she gathered that both aspects were important to the Arioi. They kept themselves ready for war, should it come. But they devoted themselves to promoting Oro's peaceful nature, when he presided over rich harvests.
 

The chanting continued as the sun dropped toward the horizon. Tepua felt gooseflesh as she listened. Oro was more powerful than any god her own people dared call on. It was far wiser, she had been taught, to beg favors of a lesser spirit; the great gods could not be bothered by human troubles. Yet these Arioi told of Oro coming to earth, allowing his power to touch men and women.
 

After the introduction, the mood of the audience turned from sober to gay as a small group of players took their places on the stage. These Arioi wore outlandish costumes—oversized or undersized wraps, necklaces made of discarded shells and coconut husks. Tepua saw people grinning, leaning forward in anticipation. “And now our first entertainment,” announced the Arioi chief. The players began to perform in mime, strutting about the stage while the chorus spoke for them.
 

Tepua looked on in puzzlement, wondering why people were laughing. One player after another stepped forward, each with a distinctly mannered gait, each earning an enthusiastic response from the crowd. She had seen something like this at home—performers mimicking well-known people.
 

Suddenly she stiffened as a man dressed like a plump woman, with bundles of straw stuffed under his wrap, sashayed onto the stage. As the actor raised a fist angrily the chorus chanted:
 

 

“What is this you serve to the women?

This is no festive meal.

Give me good food.

Give me succulent pork!”

 

A man dressed in mock chief's attire came out to rebuke the “woman.” He stood with his legs wide apart and waved an absurdly decorated staff. The chorus chanted:
 

 

“This is our privilege.

We men will eat the pig.

No pork for you, woman.

No pork for you, Poipoi.”

 

Poipoi
? Tepua glanced at her companion's smile of embarrassment. Others around Hoihoi began to slap their thighs in appreciation. Tepua tried to hold back her own laughter as the two characters traded insults and boasts, but suddenly it was too much for her. Tears of mirth ran down her cheeks.
 

So even the Arioi knew Rimapoa's sister! For a moment, sitting so close to the center of attention, Tepua felt a part of this boisterous throng. She watched the victim herself begin to laugh.
Yes, these people are not so different from my own
. In a surge of feeling that surprised her, Tepua flung her arms around Hoihoi.
 

One entertainment followed another, until finally all the actors left the stage. Then the drums, which had been restrained, began booming again. The flutes joined them in a pulsating melody. Tepua sensed the mood change once again as people followed the beat with their heads and their hands.
 

A couple appeared on stage, both wearing wreaths and dancing skirts. They stood opposite each other, and slowly the woman began to roll her hips in the beginning motions of the dance.
 

The wreath about the woman's waist accented her hip motion. She stepped in time to the drumbeat while holding her arms above her head. Her hands fluttered in the air, fingers making graceful gestures as her hips picked up the tempo. She inclined her head, sending her partner sly looks.
 

Her partner crouched on his toes, his upper body straight, his knees bent. He clapped his knees together and apart, matching his partner's rhythm. He was well suited to his role, Tepua thought, for his muscles were huge and ropy, bulging along the top of his upper leg from knee to thigh.
 

More performing couples joined the two on stage as the drumbeat accelerated. The onlookers bobbed their heads and sang along with the music as the dance grew faster and more intense.
 

“May Oro be pleased! Everyone dance!” came the deep bellow of the head Arioi.

By now night had fallen and the area was lit by bonfires and torches. With excited cries the young men and women in the audience leaped to their feet while their elders drew to the side. Tepua felt her heart jumping. This dance was almost the same as one she knew. At home she had been the best, making up for her slender form with suppleness and speed.
 

But right now she did not want a partner. She glanced around, wondering if she dared step out into the crowd of dancers on her own. Then she saw other women, swaying in clusters, paying no heed to the men. “Go,” said Hoihoi, giving her a push. “Show us how they do it on your coral island.”
 

The drumming was too powerful to resist. She went to the darkest part of the clearing, raised her arms, and began to move with the beat. Men turned to stare at her, some with scowls.
Because I am a stranger
?
 

She redoubled the speed of her dance, the rotation and swaying of her hips, the sinuous movement of her arms. No longer shy, she stepped forward into the light. She saw men and women watching, their eyes widening at her skill.
 

“
Motu
woman!” A brawny male dancer sneered.
 

Undaunted, Tepua turned in another direction. Anger lent vigor to her dance as she realized how many others were watching her now. In the place of honor, where torches flared, she saw the headman seated with other people of rank. When she noticed how their eyes glistened as they studied her, she tossed her head and danced harder.
 

“She is in the god's frenzy,” came shouts from the crowd. “In the grip of
nevaneva
. The Arioi should see this.”
 

“But no man will dance with her!” others replied.

No partner
? Tepua knew how to answer these scoffers. She had seen Rimapoa waiting eagerly for his chance. Now she moved toward him, inviting him to join her.
 

With a cry of delight, the fisherman leaped into place and took up the male part of the dance. Gales of laughter broke out in the crowd. “Here is a treat! The scrawny cock fowl joins the starved chicken!”
 

But the laughter soon died as Tepua's flowing hands and artful movements began to draw murmurs of appreciation. And Rimapoa, though lacking the grace and control of an Arioi, displayed his wiry strength and endurance. He balanced on his toes, clapping his knees together and apart so fast that they were just a blur in Tepua's eyes. He jerked his hips so lustily that his loincloth threatened to fly up.
 

“They do well together,” someone said. “Oro should be pleased.”

Now Tepua no longer watched her partner as the mounting frenzy of the dance enveloped her. Her body grew weightless and her arms seemed to move of their own accord. The lights and shadows flew past her, merging into haze.
 

Had the god brought her to this pitch of excitement? She only knew that now she could not stop. Her skin felt charged with heat. The music became part of her, echoing through her veins. . . .
 

And then, suddenly, she felt tired and dizzy. The music tried to hold her, but she could not keep up with it. She felt herself falling, saw Rimapoa's worried face peering down at her. “You did well,
motu
flower,” he kept saying as he helped Tepua up. “You are the best dancer I have ever seen.”
 

Her legs felt numb. She leaned against the fisherman and managed to hobble a few steps, then a few more. “We will take you home now,” he said gently, with just a hint of disappointment in his voice. Hoihoi had arrived to help as well. Tepua closed her eyes, refusing to look at the crowd. They had seen her in her glory. They had also seen her fail.
 

“Look how thin you are,” chided Hoihoi. “You need to eat more if you want to dance all night.”

Tepua tried to straighten up. She knew that the long voyage had weakened her. She had not fully recovered. How could she have expected to sustain her impossible pace? But as she walked slowly along the path, with the music still pounding in her ears, Tepua found herself wishing she could run back.
 

She was dancing again in her imagination, dancing with the Arioi, dancing for Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear.

 

 

7

 

THE next morning, Tepua thought she would never want to get up. Still feeling exhausted from her dance, she drifted in and out of sleep. Much earlier she had heard cocks crowing. Now, when she opened her eyes, she saw streaks of sunlight crossing the floor.
 

What had happened during the dancing? she asked herself. Had she truly been touched by the god? Suddenly she sat up, wanting to ask Hoihoi a host of questions, but the fisherman's sister was gone and the house empty.
 

Tepua put on her wrap and hurried to the stream, where she found Hoihoi sitting on the bank with her large feet dangling in the water. “Ah,” said the fisherman's sister dreamily. “You should have stayed longer last night. After I took you home, I went back to try my own dancing. What a man I found!”
 

“Tell me about the Arioi,” Tepua asked brusquely, unwilling to listen to her chatter.

Hoihoi laughed. “You heard their chants and watched them perform. When they return, you will see more.”

“Who are they? I know nothing about them.”

“They are sons and daughters from the highest families.”

Tepua frowned. “Only highborn people?”

Hoihoi splashed her feet playfully. “No. A commoner can become one of them, though it is not easy. If you are interested—”

“I did not say that,” Tepua answered cautiously. She tossed aside her wrap and waded out into the pool made by a half circle of black rocks. The steady flow of water helped ease the stiffness in her legs and back.